


Stranger No More

by violasarecool



Series: What Can 8 Grey Wardens Do? [9]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Epilogue, Fluff, Gen, Redcliffe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6342169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violasarecool/pseuds/violasarecool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an epilogue to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5972832">"Stranger Things Have Happened"</a>, my fic of the redcliffe quest</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger No More

Quentin rose late in the morning, light already filling the entirety of the small guest room as he pulled on his robes. The others' rooms were already empty, so he walked down by the lake, breathing in the fresh morning air, enjoying the feel of the warm sun. Down by the docks, he spotted a figure in the water, and as he approached, he recognized the head of ginger hair as belonging to Fox.

"What are you doing?" Quentin called.

Fox swam closer. "Swimming," he said. "Water's nice, you should come in."

"What about the 'no swimming' sign?" Quentin said.

"What sign?" Fox said innocently. "I can't read, I must have missed it."

"...You forged a letter from your Warden-Commander. You can definitely read."

"Shh, not so loud!" Fox grinned. "They don't know that."

Quentin laughed, and sat down on the edge of the dock. "Where are the others?"

"Not sure," Fox said, turning to float on his back. "I didn't see anyone else when I got up this morning, so I came out here."

"Hm." Quentin pulled off his boots and socks, and let his feet dangle in the water. "You're right, it is nice."

"Told you."

Quentin stirred a foot in the water, watching the ripples spread out across the placid surface. "Weird to think that this is the same lake by the Circle."

"Oh, right, you're a mage, you're from the Circle, right?" Fox asked.

"Well. Not _from_ there. I lived there most of my life. I'm from Denerim."

"Really?" Fox tipped upright to crouch in the water. "What's your family name?"

"Surana."

Fox rubbed a wet hand over his face. "Doesn't sound familiar. You ever heard of a Tabris family? Dad's name is Cyrion."

"No, sorry. I left for the circle when I was 6, though."

"Mm. That would do it," Fox agreed. "You still have family there, then? Now you're a Grey Warden, you could visit them."

"Well." Quentin folded his hands together. "No. My parents died before I left. I don't think I had any other family."

"Oh. Sorry," Fox said.

"It's ok," Quentin said, "mages aren't supposed to keep family ties anyway."

"Well, neither are Grey Wardens," Fox said, "but most Wardens I know would stop to see their family if they were in the area. I mean, Fontaine would have their ass for it if she found out," he said, grinning, "but most wouldn't tell."

"You make it sound almost like a family, there," Quentin said.

"Kinda. I've been a Warden for, what, 5 years now?"

"Oh, wow."

"Yeah. Pretty hard to spend that kind of time with people without getting to know them."

"I guess, yeah."

Fox looked at Quentin for a moment. "Hey, hang on, so if you're from the city, how come you have Dalish face tattoos?"

"Uh. Well." He ran a hand through his hair. "That's kind of a long story. Actually..." he frowned, "I don't even know how that all ended up, I missed some of what happened... Let me ask Wynne when she gets back, and then you can have the full story."

Fox laughed. "Alright, be cryptic. No, it's fine," he said, as Quentin began to protest, "wouldn't want to ruin a good story." He looked down, swished his hands through the water. "Ok, I'm getting wrinkly, I'm getting out."

"Oh, ok." Quentin turned away to face the shore as Fox stood up. There was a splash and a thump.

"You mind if I just put on my underwear while I dry out?"

"Sure."

One step, then another, and the rustling of fabric. "Ok, you can turn around, Ser modest. Do mages not change in front of each other?"

Quentin scooted around to see Fox sit down on the deck. "I mean, I guess. That doesn't mean it was a comfortable experience." He tugged one sleeve further down his wrist. "Especially with the Templars around all the time. There were rumours that they'd watch apprentices bathing."

"Gross."

"Mm."

"I guess the alienage at least has that over the Circle. Humans don't come inside too often," Fox said.

"True."

" _Although,"_ Fox sat forward, "the year I left, there were a few of the arl's men in there, thought they'd show up unannounced to a wedding and kidnap the women."

"That's awful," Quentin said, frowning.

Fox gave a humourless smile. "We beat the _shit_ out of them. Disgusting bastards." He stretched back to lie flat against the dock. "The son's dead now, thank fuck, though that..." He shook his head. "That's a whole 'nother story. Back then, though, that was why I had to leave. They would have loved to jail me just for bruising his _poor fair skin_ , but luckily Duncan was there, sent me off to the Wardens in Orlais."

A shadow fell across Fox, and Quentin glanced up to see Zevran standing above them. "Who are you bruising now?"

"Humans," Fox said succinctly. "Where've you been?"

"Dear Leliana insisted that Sten try some of the delightful pastries the cooks make in the castle. I'm afraid I spent most of the morning in the kitchen, covered in flour," Zevran said.

"And you didn't bring any?" Quentin said.

"Alas, they all seem to have disappeared into my stomach," Zevran said, patting his front. "I will have to kill double the darkspawn today so that I do not turn into a ball of pastry and roll away."Quentin laughed. "And what have you two been up to?" Zevran looked down at Fox. "Not that I don't appreciate the sight of your delightful body, but why are you lying on the dock in only your underwear?"

Fox tipped his head up, grinning fiendishly. "Come here and see."

"Ah, I think not," Zevran said, "you are wet. Did you go swimming?"

"You got me," Fox said.

"Hm. I'm surprised at you, Quentin, keeping the company of such a rulebreaker."

"Are you?" Quentin asked.

"No," Zevran said, smiling. "Do you suppose there's time for a short swim before we go?"

"I don't know," Quentin said, "you were with the others, was everyone over there? Are they ready to leave yet?"

"They will be on their way eventually, I suspect, either once they deplete the kitchen of baked goods, or the cook forcibly ejects them. One or the other. And speaking of leaving," he glanced at Fox, "when were you planning on doing so?"

"Well... you said you were going to Denerim, right?" Fox asked them. "On your search for this _Urn?"_

"Yeah," Quentin said.

"I was thinking... I'd like to come with you, if that's alright. I want to see what's happening in the Alienage, for one thing, and if there's anywhere to get information about this mess between Ferelden and Orlais, a big city like Denerim's a good place to start."

"Sure," Quentin said, smiling.

"I _suppose_ we may be able to accommodate one more person," Zevran said, reaching down to flick water at Fox.

"Oh come on," Fox protested, "I was just getting dry!"

Zevran grinned. " _Dios mío_ , we cannot have that!"

Later, the others found them all soaking wet, Quentin still in his robes. Before he could finish wringing them out, he was forced to defend himself from a literal barrage of baked goods from Leliana (much to Alistair's dismay: "Why would you bring them sweets and then _throw_ them at them? What a waste!"). Meanwhile, Sten gave a running commentary on the many marvels of the Redcliffe kitchens, describing in great detail the painstaking process that went into the honeyed treats.

Quentin picked a piece of pastry out of his hair, then shrugged and popped it in his mouth. _Mm, delicious._


End file.
